the hook-up. {ethma}

chapter 38

emma chamberlain

SOMETHING HAS TO give. Ethan is hurting inside, and I can't help him. Nor can I just sit back and ignore it any longer. The tension it creates is an ever-inflating balloon, growing tight and swollen. I'm so afraid of the inevitable burst that I don't dare to touch it. But the only thing avoidance has ever brought me is grief.

Lying in bed, I watch the morning light sneak in through a crack in the curtain to stretch its pale fingers across the ceiling. My heart is a stone weight in my chest. I need to tell him how I feel. It isn't going to be pretty. Ethan's pride is a powerful thing. And much more sensitive than I ever gave it credit.

A crash from out in the living room has me sitting up quickly. I toss on a robe and run out.

Ethan is crouched over a broken glass. Bending at an awkward angle, he attempts to sweep up the pieces.

"Here," I say, coming forward, "let me."

"I can do it." His tone is short as he shoos me away.

I stand back, watching as he clears up the mess. Storm clouds brew over his expression. And when I pick up a stray sliver of glass with a napkin, the storm breaks.

"Jesus," he snaps, "I said I could do it. Would you quit hovering over me like a bee?"

Stung, I fight to keep my expression neutral as I throw out the glass. "You missed one, and I saw it. That isn't hovering."

"Oh no?" His dark brows rise with incredulity. "So you haven't been walking around on eggshells with me this whole time?"

Pausing, I take a breath. Calm. I need calm. "If I've had to walk around on eggshells it's because you've been spoiling for a fight."

A mulish set lifts his chin, and he doesn't meet my eyes. "Maybe you've been waiting for me to snap."

"Maybe I have."

He flinches at that, his gaze darting to mine.

I don't look away. "Maybe I'm looking for the Ethan I fell in love with. Because, if you ask me, he's gone into hiding."

The color drains from his face, but I can see the wheels turning in that keen mind of his. I know he's going to avoid this, pretend like everything is okay, and it's all in my head.

Like clockwork, his expression eases. "Emma..."

"Don't," I take a step forward, pointing a finger in his direction, "fucking, 'Emma' me. You do not get to placate me any longer."

His brows furrow. "What do you want from me? I'm trying not to fight."

"I don't care if we fight, if it means you acknowledge the fact that you've got a problem going on inside your head at the moment." My heart is racing now. I hate confrontation. I loathe it with Ethan.

The muscles along his neck tense as his color darkens. "Jesus, what is with everyone?" He rakes a hand through his disorderly hair before slapping his good thigh. "Would you give it a rest? I'm not some problem for everyone to solve."

"Oh, bullshit."

His brows wing up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. That is utter bullshit. You know damn well that if it were me, Deon, or any one of your friends, you'd do the same thing. So don't start that whole 'why won't you leave me alone' line again."

Ethan backs up, his ass hitting the counter. "I don't even know why you care."

"Of course I care! Why wouldn't I care?"